Split Orchids Melissa R. Mendelson I found him standing outside my house. He was barely dressed for winter. He stared at my bedroom window as if caught between a dream and nightmare. He scratched the back of his head, but his brain gave no answers. It took him a long time to realize that I was standing by the door. “Can I help you,” I asked. “I used to live here,” he mumbled. “The house was brown not blue. There were no pink curtains on the bedroom window. There were no curtains there at all. The window was also cracked.” “You must have the wrong house,” and I waited for him to move on. But he did not. “Don’t you have a coat?” “I think I lost it in the thunderstorm last night,” he said. “There was no thunderstorm last night,” I replied. “Look, it’s almost freezing out. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll make you some tea.” He was about to respond, but then a couple walked by. It was John and Barry with their two little girls, and he growled at them, reminding me of a stray dog. His …

Life is Temporary, Love is Forever Melissa R. Mendelson Xena Connon stared at the monologue in her hands. She glanced up into the rearview mirror, staring into her clear, blue eyes. Satisfied with her lines, she folded the paper up and placed it into the glove compartment. Then, she pushed a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear, and she stared out at the one-level house in front of her. She did not want to be here, but she did not want to get stuck in retail or fast food. She got lucky at the diner when reading through the classified ads, finding this one: Need Care Taker for Disabled Adult. Would require cooking and cleaning. Must be good with people. Must be willing to reside at the house. Call for more information. “Come on, Xena. Be a warrior princess.” Xena hated that television show, but her mother loved it. Hence, the name. “Can’t be that bad,” and Xena took the key out of the ignition. “The ad agency …

Chapter Ten: “Mom, I’m home. Mommy? Are you here?” Chelsie was always told to use her spare key, in case of emergencies. She was supposed to stay at Megan’s house and wait for her mother, but her mother never came for her. She never called, and usually that was fine. But all day yesterday, Megan was being mean to her, taunting her about her father, and later that night, she made Chelsie cry and called her a baby. That’s why Chelsie lied to Megan’s mother about her mother waiting for her at the house, but nobody was there. And Megan laughed behind her. “Maybe, they locked her up too,” Megan laughed as she stood behind Chelsie. Chelsie wanted to tell Megan to shut up, but she knew better. Instead, she let out a loud sigh and turned around, facing the girl behind her. Megan was barely eleven, but she seemed older. Her beautiful skin shined against the dark, and she touched her short, blonde hair, making sure that it was still in place. Her brown eyes met Chelsie’s gaze, and Chelsi…

Harold Gate reached into the bag. He pulled out six hideous masks. They almost looked like Halloween masks, and they reminded me of those Zombie movies. They were awful to look at it, and the mask that was placed into my hands didn’t feel like rubber or plastic. It just gave me a weird vibe. “Put them on,” Harold Gate said, and everyone did except for me.

Read more of my short story, The Imitation of Death for free in the Sirens Call December 2018 Issue #42.

When The Pennies Fall(Inspired by Rest Haven, Monroe, NY) Melissa R. Mendelson The birds wake me up in the morning with their chirping and flapping. I hear them inside the walls. I always wondered how they got in there, but it was a familiar, comforting sound. There was no sound today. That bothered me. Summer was not over yet, and they usually left right before winter. Then, they would return, telling me that spring was on its way. They should be chirping and flapping right about now, but they weren’t. And the silence broke into a symphony of snores. Becky had started to sneak into my room at night. She didn’t want to startle me by crawling into the bed. The bed was also small, so she slept on the arm chair to the left in the corner. I didn’t know she was there until she started to snore. Sometimes, she would even talk in her sleep. At least, she would try to. It was like she was chasing conversations with a ghost. The breakfast call sounded from the kitchen and marched up …